


Whispers

by KiKi_the_Creator



Category: Blades of Light and Shadow (Visual Novel)
Genre: Actually fluff, F/F, death but in the canon way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiKi_the_Creator/pseuds/KiKi_the_Creator
Summary: Nia can never sleep and Cleo’s always there to entertain. / Grateful whispers muttered in the dead of night, hushed and vulnerable.
Relationships: Nia Ellarious/Main Character (Blades of Light and Shadow)
Kudos: 4





	Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> [~original~](https://kiki-the-creator.tumblr.com/post/641276424280588288/whispers)

“Alright, Priestess? Enjoying yourself?” Cleo asks with a grin, settling down beside the slowly dying fire while fiddling with her bowstring, gaze flickering between light eyes and the weapon in her hands.

Nia returns her smile, eyes briefly meeting amber and the orange light playing within them, “Yes, this pilgrimage has proved quite eventful so far.”

Cleo barks a laugh, eyes lifting to flicker amusedly at Nia, “That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s true,” Nia leans closer, her face lighting up in excitement, “I never expected to be face to face with an owlbear! It was so…” she trails off, lips contorted as she searches for a proper description.

“Big? Smelly? Stupid? Loud?” Cleo supplies, a small bemused smile on her lips.

“I suppose, though I was thinking more along the lines of ‘one of a kind.’”

“Owlbears aren’t one of a kind, Priestess.”

Red hair flies around Nia’s shoulders as she shakes her head, “The experience was one of a kind. This journey to the Temple is one of a kind.”

“That depends on if you plan to get attacked again, then it’s definitely not one of a kind,” Cleo leans backwards, her elbows propping her up as her gaze scans the eager Priestess before her.

“I assure you that I have no such plans.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

“No? Would that not give you another opportunity to showcase your abilities?”

“Yeah, but that’s - that’d be awful,” Cleo averts her eyes, fumbling upright once more and turning back to her bow, staring at the wood intently as heat rises in her cheeks.

“I believe the same could be said for you, putting yourself in danger for us.”

“I mean, I guess, but I’m getting paid for it, while you’re, you know,” slender fingers rise to tug at white dreads anxiously, words tumbling out of Cleo’s mouth without care, “ _You._ ”

“That’s -” Nia chuckles nervously, a neon blushing painting her skin, “You’re too kind,” she mumbles beneath her breath.

“Just, um…” Cleo jumps to her feet, dusting herself off before grabbing her bow, “I’m gonna head to bed, Priestess. Uh, good night,” and turns on her heel, hurrying away from the campfire. 

Nia’s eyes follow her retreating form, skating along her figure, “Hey, Cleo?”

Cleo spins back around at the last second, only a step away from her tent, but with a smile on her face, “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Another grin, firelight illuminating exposed teeth before that bright smile slips into the shadow of the tent.

—

“Hey, Priestess,” Cleo stops beside Nia, leaning against the tree behind her, hands fisted together before her. The forest’s sounds are in the distance, echoes of an argument between Mal and Threep even nearer as Cleo’s honey eyes trace the shape of the trees. “Are you doing okay?” she asks softly after a long pause.

Nia gives a stiff nod, her gaze never straying from her hands as they lay knotted together in her lap, fingers fidgeting restlessly. Her shoulders are tense, her brow is furrowed, and her jaw’s clenched as a million emotions flit through her mind.

“You sure?” Cleo prods, standing straight as her gaze inspects Nia carefully, “I’m, you know, here if you need anything. Promise.”

“It doesn’t really seem real,” the words come fast from Nia, hurried and tumbling over one another, like she’s worried if she doesn’t rush them, they’ll never make it out of her mouth. “That he’s gone, I mean. Just like that.”

Cleo nods in understanding, settling beside Nia on the grass, her legs folded before her as she picks at the foliage, “I know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry,” Nia blurts out, eyes wide and panicked as she takes in the sorrow on Cleo’s face, the waves of grief in her bright eyes and the mountains of loss weighing down her shoulders.

“Don’t be,” Cleo shrugs, shaking her head a beat later, “I should be saying that, I was meant to protect you.” She scowls down at her hands, tearing apart a piece of grass in frustration.

Nia’s palm rests on her forearm, squeezing comfortingly, “You couldn’t have possibly done more than you did. That was - We stumbled upon the _Shadow Court._ ”

“Still,” Cleo shrugs her off, ripping a dead leaf into tiny remains, “They’re gone, and I’m the one with the weapon.”

“Only Scholar Vash is gone, Cleo, and there was no way to help him. We did all we could,” Nia reassures, finding Cleo’s forearm and squeezing again. “But we can get Kade back, and we will. Promise,” she squeezes again, pouring as much sincerity into the gesture as she can muster.

“Alright, Priestess,” Cleo manages a wavering smile, and this time she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t steal her arm back, just lets Nia’s hand rest there.

Nia nods, her thumb brushing along Cleo’s skin, “And - and thank you. For protecting me already, and everything else,” she whispers.

“Anytime.” Cleo’s hand finds hers, squeezing.

—

The ship tilts violently to one side, the interior of the hull sliding with it as a yelp sounds from above Cleo, quickly muffled a second later. She extracts herself from the bottom bunk, glancing around and finding the boys asleep throughout the space, and pokes her head up.

Nia’s back is to her as she grips the railing surrounding the bunk, the Priestess curled in on herself as Threep lays at the foot of the bunk, his tail tucked under his chin. “Nia?” she calls quietly.

The woman in question turns to face Cleo, Threep shifting slightly at the movement. Her hands are tucked beneath her head, eyes bright in the low visibility of night, shining and gleaming in the few stray rays of light, and blinking innocently.

“Are you okay?” Cleo asks as soft as she can, gaze even softer.

“Yes…”

“You sure? You seemed, uh, kinda startled.”

“The waves are startling,” she frowns, her features pinched as she props herself up on one elbow.

“Right, sorry,” Cleo fights a smile at the indignant glower staring back at her. “So you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

Cleo shrugs, muttering, “Okay,” as she sinks back to her bunk, laying back and staring blankly upwards. Her fingers tap against the back of her palm as her hands rest on her abdomen, knit together with fiddling thumbs.

“Hey, Cleo?” Nia’s voice hesitantly asks, curls falling past the edge of the upper bunk.

“Yeah?”

“I, um, I can’t sleep.”

Cleo smiles privately before flying upright again, pausing just before Nia’s face hanging over the edge of her bunk, “How can I help, Priestess?”

Nia darts backwards, cool air filling the space between them, so much cooler than it was for just a fraction of a moment, “Um, maybe with a distraction?”

Cleo beams, her teeth glinting bright, “On it.” She jumps, hopping the barrier surrounding the top bunk and landing beside Nia, hovering over the Priestess with a wicked smirk, hair creating a curtain to separate them from the rest of the world.

Nia squeaks, jolting backwards as a blush alights along her cheeks and ears, “Oh, Gods,” she murmurs under her breath. She covers her flushed face with her hands, fumbling to sit upright as Threep hisses at the disturbance of his sleep.

“We’ll be quiet,” Cleo whispers to him, sitting back on her heels with arms crossed over her chest as she glares at the nesper.

He glares right back from over his paws, hissing one last time in warning. Cleo hisses back.

“Alright, Priestess,” her frown drops away as she turns back to Nia, leaning forward with her palms spread on the bunk, “Let’s talk.”

“About - About what?” Nia’s hands lower, revealing still-stained, but moderately-less-so, cheeks.

“Hmm…” Cleo hums, low in the back of her throat, a deep, intoxicating sound like dark liquor. “Ooh,” her face lights up, eyes flying up to catch Nia staring at her, “What about the boys? What do you make of them?”

Nia clears her throat, sitting upright and attempting to ignore the blush on the back of her neck, “I think they’re quite all right.”

Another mischievous grin curves Cleo’s mouth, “That’s it? C’mon, Priestess, you’ve got to have more to say than that.”

“I assure you, I don’t,” Nia huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in protest.

“Not even about Tyril? And all his haughtiness? Or Mal and his ridiculous stories?”

“Well…”

Cleo crawls closer, turning until her back is resting beside Nia’s, “Ooh, the Priestess has something bad to say,” she elbows Nia in the ribs and wiggles her shoulders for effect.

“Not _bad,_ per say…” Nia drawls, avoiding eye contact as the tips of her ears turn bright red and her hands fidget restlessly with the tips of her hair, legs crossing and uncrossing nervously.

“You don’t have to say anything, I’m just kidding,” Cleo’s teasing tone falls away as she puts some distance between them, gaze turning earnest in the dim cabin.

“I know, but -” Nia exhales with a tiny frown, “Tyril is so stiff, he’s like a statue!” she whispers loudly. “And Mal! He’s a _thief_ and proud of it!” her eyes are wide, scandalized as she gapes at Cleo.

“Wait ‘til I tell you about mercenaries.”

Nia playfully slaps at her thigh with a scowl, until Cleo’s laughing and covering her mouth to avoid waking the others, her chuckles barely subdued as she leans against Nia for support.

“Do you _mind?_ ” Threep hisses once more, glaring up at the pair from his spot at the foot of the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Threep, my sincerest apologies,” Cleo turns mockingly serious in an instant, her hands clasped before her in a plea.

“Good,” Threep huffs, crawling into Nia’s lap and curling into a ball, his purrs resuming as Cleo scratches behind his ears.

“Such a simple kitty.”

His teeth gnash at her hand, “Never call me something so cruel again.”

“Got it, boss,” Cleo salutes him, her expression serious again as Threep sighs, dropping his head to his paws and burying his face in his fur.

“You two are getting along, I see,” Nia hums, her palm skating along Threep’s back, a purr sounding in response.

“We’re the best of friends, right Threep?”

“Yes, indeed. Now can we go to sleep?”

Cleo nudges Nia in the side, her head cocked curiously, “Well? Think you can sleep now?”

There’s no expectation in her irises as she blinks, but Nia still dips her head to avoid Cleo’s gaze. She shakes her head, scratching Threep to give herself a distraction from the irritation she expects from Cleo.

“Alright, but we need something else to do, since you’re no good at gossip,” she slumps against the hull, thinking deeply as Nia blinks at her in surprise.

“Um, okay…” She mimics Cleo’s posture, sinking into the bunk and pulling Threep closer in her arms.

“Oh, I know! I could tell you a story! One of my favourites that Kade always told. Well, he’s probably better at it, but I can try?” Cleo offers, eyes glowing as she sits bolt upright, eager at the opportunity.

Nia smiles, whispering quietly, “I’d love to hear it, Cleo.”

Cleo sits beaming for a moment before coming to her senses and beginning her story. She speaks in hushed whispers, gesturing wildly as her smile grows wider at every giggle from Nia, “And _then_ the troll just whacked the adventurer with his club! Just whack!” she mimics swinging a club in a wide, uneven arc. “And down the mountain the adventurer went, hitting his head a lot, too, I imagine,” she nods sagely, Nia stifling another giggle at her earnest expression.

“So the adventurer gave up?”

“Of course not, that’d be an awful story!” Cleo chastises. “He climbed the mountain again, but this time, he had a plan,” she carries on, detailing every step of the adventure and subsequent defeat of the troll.

“Thank you,” Nia whispers, the words barely there as she settles against the bunk, idly dragging her nails through Threep’s thick fur as she watches the tale further unfold before her.

Cleo pauses mid-sentence, her cheeks flushed from her vigorous storytelling, and turns to meet Nia’s eyes, “Anytime,” before falling back into the ridiculous tale with ease.

—

Cleo’s curled up in her bedroll, face pressing into it with eyes shut tight to block out the dying embers of the fire resting before her. Stars and swirling colours play behind her eyelids, a rainbow to watch as sleep evades her.

“Hey, Cleo?” Nia’s voice is gentle in the night, barely audible over the snores ripping through their camp.

“Yeah?”

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“… I can’t sleep,” Nia confesses, her cheeks heating as she stares at the stars glowing in the night sky.

Cleo rolls over to face her, bedroll pulled up to her chin as bright eyes peek out from it, “Me neither. Wanna… talk?” she proposes, eyebrows jutting upwards.

“Yes, please,” Nia sighs in relief, scooting closer and snuggling into her own bedroll.

“So… How about -”

“Do you think we have a chance?” Nia blurts out, cutting Cleo off abruptly, eyes piercing into amber.

“Like…” Cleo’s brows furrow as she runs through the question in her mind, before she shakes her head, clearing it of the fog, “What?”

“Do you think we have a chance to defeat the Shadow Court? Do you think we can do this? Or are we just making things worse? Has any of this been worth it since Scholar Vash died?” Nia’s words explode from her mouth, rushed and panicked and worried and mixed together.

Cleo rises onto her elbow, one hand escaping from her bedroll to gesture calmingly, “All right, I think you need to slow down and take a breath, okay?” she nods encouraginly.

“Okay.” Nia clamps her jaw shut to do as told, inhaling deeply and exhaling quickly a few times.

Cleo squirms closer, stopping directly beside the Priestess’ curled up form, “Nia, are you scared?” she whispers cautiously into the tiny space between them.

“Terrified.”

“Good, me too,” Cleo grins, relaxed and reassured as opposed to the mischief and excitement usually contained within it.

Nia gapes, mouth hanging open as she stutters for a response, “Really? You?!”

Cleo flaps her hand with a tiny frown, “Shh, shh, don’t wake up the snorers.”

“Right,” Nia nods, regaining herself, “Sorry. But… _you’re_ scared?” she asks incredulously, her voice pitching high.

“Oh, yeah,” Cleo nods, her expression surprisingly serious, “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nia nods vehemently, hair stirring around her, “Yes, of course.”

Cleo sucks in a deep breath, “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m a kid from a tiny village that met a pretty - That got caught up in all this Shadow Court stuff and is just trying to stay alive and get my brother back. I have no idea what I’m doing. Ever.”

“I don’t either, Cleo. I know I’m supposed to be good at this, being a Priestess and all, but this is very out of my depth,” Nia squeaks.

“I know, Priestess,” Cleo grins at the panicked expression on Nia’s face, “But do you feel better now? Talking about it?”

Nia pauses, eyes flitting around at nothing in particular, “Yes,” she nods resolutely, “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Now try to get more sleep before dawn.” Cleo rolls back over, her back to Nia as she wraps her bedroll tight around herself. She tunes back into the snores from across camp and the hoots and calls of birds, the purring of Threep a few feet away.

“Hey, Cleo?”

“Yeah?” she mumbles into her bedroll.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“…I’m cold.”

“Uh,” Cleo’s eyes blink open before she glances over her shoulder, Nia’s gaze already trained on her, “Do you want me to restart the fire?”

“No, you’ll wake the others,” Nia whispers in concern.

Wiggling in her bedroll, Cleo faces the Priestess once more, “Do you want the extra blanket?”

Nia shakes her head with a small frown on her lips, “Imtura took it since her bedroll is too small.”

Cleo’s lips twist into a frown as she stares at the stars, searching for a solution. Her cheeks heat as soon as she finds it, and she stumbles over her words, “Do you, uh, want to, er -”

She sighs as her tongue betrays her, scooting over and tugging her bedroll open in invitation, “Just,” she waves her hands awkwardly, avoiding looking at the Priestess as her face remains flushed dark.

And Nia’s blushing just as hard as she squirms into Cleo’s bedroll, attempting to keep some distance between them and ultimately failing in the small space.

Cleo lays still, arms set at her sides as she faces upwards, refusing to meet Nia’s imploring gaze beside her, “They’re going to make fun of us in the morning,” she mumbles.

“They always do,” Nia shrugs, light eyes wandering over the rise and fall of Cleo’s profile curiously.

“Yeah, but we don’t have to give them a reason,” Cleo huffs, crossing her arms and subsequently stirring the bedroll.

Nia cocks her head, frowning deeply as her eyes swim, “Are you kicking me out?”

“What -” Cleo’s eyes fly to hers, “No! No, I’m -” she bites her tongue at the sight of a smile spreading over Nia’s lips, mischievous and self-satisfied all at the same time. “Gods, you’re just as bad,” Cleo whines, dragging a hand over her face.

“It’s funny when you’re flustered. You aren’t often,” Nia hums.

“Yeah, ‘cause - Look, just go to sleep,” Cleo cuts herself off, turning her back to the Priestess and her amused grin and burying her face in the warmth of the bedroll to the warmth of her cheeks.

Nia slides closer, arms folded against her chest as her forehead presses between Cleo’s shoulderblades. Her head shifts with Cleo’s inhales and exhales, a gentle, hypnotic rhythm to lull her to sleep as the breaths slow, weighed down by the startings of dozing off.

“Hey, Cleo?” she whispers, the words hot where they soak through Cleo’s shirt.

Cleo grumbles out a response, “Yeah?”

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“…Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Cleo sighs out, sinking further into the bedroll as Nia’s own breathing slows gradually, a drawn out tempo to match.

—

The woods are relatively still, sounds of life echoing in the distance, bouncing off the trees and playing in the breeze in a faint melody for Cleo’s entertainment. She’s on first watch tonight, carefully sharpening her blade just to keep her hands busy and humming quietly to herself, a song from the Riverbend tavern.

“Hey, Cleo?” Nia pads over to the tree Cleo’s sitting at with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, taking careful, quiet steps, wary of the sticks and leaves beneath her feet and glancing between her path and Cleo.

“Yeah?” Cleo moves her bow from one side of her, leaving space for the approaching Priestess.

She stops at the trunk of the tree, peering down at Cleo with a smile, “Mind if I join you?”

“‘Course not, the more the merrier. Er - Sometimes.”

Nia drops to the forest floor, legs curled beneath her and blanket held tight around her body, “Why only sometimes?” she murmurs, shivering slightly from the chill of night.

“Don’t want the Prince getting any ideas,” she sneers in the direction of Baldur’s tent, quickening the pace at which she sharpens her sword momentarily.

“Mmm,” Nia hums, shifting closer.

Cleo’s eyes land on her, taking in the shaking of her body, “Cold?”

“A little.”

“C’mere,” Cleo wraps an arm around her back, pulling her into her side and her body heat. Nia sighs, her head falling to Cleo’s shoulder and eyelashes fluttering shut in contentment.

“I still can’t believe we saw a unicorn,” Cleo says after a long moment.

“I know!” Nia perks up, her head flying up to meet Cleo’s eyes, excitement overflowing from them. “It was magical! This whole clearing is magical,” her gaze rakes over the clearing, landing on the shimmering water a ways away.

“Know what else I can’t believe?” Cleo nudges Nia with her hip to earn back her gaze.

“What?”

“That Baldur hasn’t been punched back.”

“Cleo!” Nia lightly slaps her side in a scolding, but only succeeding in sending Cleo into a laughing fit, “He’s - He’s a _prince!_ ” she chastises, whispering heatedly under her breath.

Cleo’s chuckles begin to subside as she forces out a retort, “Exactly, no one else is gonna do it, it’s gotta be one of us!”

“Shh,” Nia waves her hand to quiet Cleo, “What if he hears?” she hisses.

“I can take him,” Cleo nods resolutely, raising her free arm and flexing to the amusement of a now-giggling Nia. “Prince Jerkface’s got nothing on me. I killed a drakna queen!” she announces proudly, chest puffed out.

“I’d rather you not fight the crown prince,” Nia’s head falls back to Cleo’s shoulder when her giggles subside, snuggling further into Cleo’s side.

“Hmph. Fine,” Cleo grumbles, her palm skating up the length of Nia’s back absentmindedly.

“Cleo?”

“Hmm?”

Nia’s cheek presses further into Cleo, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Cleo’s head drops to Nia’s, a single red curl twisting around her finger.

—

The bedroom door open, slowly and loudly, the hinges’ creaks filling the room as red curls peer cautiously around the frame, “Hey, Cleo?” a hesitant voice calls into the room.

The woman in question shifts upright, glancing over her shoulder at the curious eyes staring at the back of her head, “Yeah?”

“You’re awake.”

Cleo smiles, “Yeah.”

Nia shuffles inside, closing the door behind her and cringing at the loud creaking. She stands awkwardly, shifting on her feet nervously before Cleo, “…I can’t sleep.”

“Do you want to hang out here?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here, then,” Cleo grins, scooting to make room on the edge of the bed beside her.

Nia crosses to her, dropping beside Cleo and folding her legs before her, picking at her gown as Cleo lays back, gazing up at the Priestess. “Well… she drawls after a long moment.

Light eyes flick up to meet her gaze, “Well what?”

“Well why are you up?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Why can’t you sleep?” Cleo prods, circling a spot on Nia’s thigh with her index finger idly.

Nia only shrugs, turning back to pick at her gown to distract herself. Cleo sighs, sitting upright in front of Nia, cupping her jaw to draw her gaze, “What’s going on and how can I help?”

Red spreads across Nia’s skin, hot to the touch as she blushes furiously, but she refuses to look away from Cleo’s vibrant eyes. “I, um. The masquerade,” is all she manages, but it’s enough for Cleo’s palms to fall from her cheeks.

“Yeah,” she nods, “Going to a fancy party just to fight evil isn’t exactly the most calming thing to think about.”

“What if we fail? Or someone gets hurt? What happens if Kaya wins?” Nia rambles, her breath coming quicker as panic builds inside her chest, “What if - What if something happens and - and -”

“Hey,” Cleo stops her in her tracks, tone stern and eyes ablaze, “We’ve got this, okay?”

“But what if -”

Cleo gives her an exasperated look, silencing Nia for the second time. With a sigh, she offers her hand, palm upturned and fingers wiggling teasingly. A small smile illuminates Nia’s features as she slips her hand into Cleo’s, their fingers tangling together as Cleo’s thumb traces delicate knuckles. “We’ve got this,” she whispers, almost too quiet to hear.

“We’ve got this,” Nia repeats, squeezing the hand in hers for reassurance. “We’ve got this,” one last whisper as she pulls her knees to her chest, her head lolling against Cleo as she slows her ragged breathing.

“We’ve got anything they can throw at us. Promise.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Nia murmurs reassurances to herself as Cleo’s thumb continues circling her skin, the presence grounding. “Cleo?”

“Hmm?” she hums, attention on their interlocked fingers as the plays with Nia’s.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she whispers against Nia’s hair, pressing a kiss to her head while her eyes stay trained on their fidgeting hands.

—

The sheets are cold against Cleo’s skin, the warmth from earlier gone as she stirs, eyelashes gently fluttering open. It’s dark in the dead of night, moonlight noticeably absent as she shifts into a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she reaches it.

A groan spills from her lips as she slumps forward, every muscle protesting to just go back to sleep, but she fights the urge, slipping out from the bed and crossing the room to the massive windows and the cracked door, star and city light mixing to guide her.

She steps onto the terrace, carefully closing the door shut behind her, just to find Nia standing beside the railing, her arms folded atop it. A breeze lifts her hair from her shoulders, sending it flying behind her, curls swirling in a sharp contrast to the harsh dark sprawled before them.

Whitetower stretches out against the horizon, vibrant rooftops and candlelit windows providing a splash of colour against the black above them, only the peppering of stars shining in the sky tonight.

Cleo joins Nia at the railing, taking in the sombre expression on her face as she stares out at the city, warm lights reflected in her bright eyes. Only their dimmer tonight, blank as the sky without its moon, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing out here?”

She sighs, fingers fidgeting with a strand of hair, “I couldn’t sleep again.”

Cleo nods, letting silence fill the space as she carefully curls her arm through Nia’s, their bodies drawing closer together as they lean against one another. “It’s nice out,” she hums, eyes trained on the lights of the night market in the distance.

“It’s beautiful,” Nia echoes, breathless at the sight before, a gorgeous painting come to life, “I missed this,” she exhales slowly, some tension dropping from her shoulders. Her eyes flick up to Cleo’s, “Not - not that I regret anything, or wish I never went and met you, or -”

Cleo silences her with a soft kiss, only lasting a second before her forehead is falling against Nia’s, “I know. I know,” she murmurs with a smile, eyes drinking in the blush painted on Nia’s cheeks.

“Okay,” Nia nods, ears still red as another spell of quiet fills the balcony, the pair simply leaning against one another as a rainbow of brilliance shines in their irises, swirling and coalescing into perfect little slivers of the beauty before them.

Nia rubs her arms, attempting to force heat into them to counteract the cold winds blowing through the sky.

“Are you cold?” Cleo instinctively starts repeating Nia’s motions, running her palms over the lengths of slender arms.

Nia smiles sheepishly, “Freezing.”

“Let me fix that, then,” Cleo chuckles under her breath as she steps behind Nia, slipping her arms around her cool body, palms on the back of Nia’s freezing ones. “Your hands are like ice,” she groans, pulling them towards Nia’s core in search of further heat.

“And yours are like fire,” Nia giggles, even more when Cleo ghosts feather-light kisses over her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, just to watch her squirm. “That tickles!” Nia protests, writhing in Cleo’s arms.

Cleo grins against her skin, “Yep,” before planting one final kiss to Nia’s cheek, her chin dropping to her shoulder to stare out into the dark horizon.

Nia sighs, sinking into the warmth of the body behind her, wrapped around her, supporting her like always. Like in the woods or on pirate ships or in crowded ballrooms, against Shadow Court members and terrifying creatures and their own team members, like always. “Thank you.”

A soft smile illuminates Cleo’s features even more than the city’s lights as she squeezes the woman in her arms, “Anytime. I kinda like keeping you warm.”

“I meant for everything, Cleo.”

“Oh,” she pauses at the intensity in Nia’s voice, the sincerity and earnesty overflowing from the sentence. “Well, it still stands. I’m always here. Promise,” and drops another kiss to Nia’s exposed shoulder and squeezing her tight again.

—

Darkness swirls, shadows engulf the space in rolling, trembling vengeful waves as shouts and clashes of steel echo through the vast atrium. Bodies lay littered in heaps, blood is thick in the air, and anger and hatred crowd the hall. So, so much hatred, enough to drown in it, to let it rip you apart from the inside out, to become buried in an avalanche of pure, unending hatred.

Cleo’s legs tremble beneath her, the weight of the world resting heavy on her shoulders as tears cascade down the length of her face, blurring her vision until nothing coherent remains. Her blood pounds in her ears, drowning out the sounds of a vicious battle around her as she grasps desperately at the hands held in hers, fingers interlocked in a silent, desperate plea. A plea for everything to be okay, for none of this to be real, for the black in Nia’s veins to be nothing but a bad dream.

Through tears, she watches, helpless as Nia retracts her hands, clutching at her head and bending at the waist, pain painted across her features in a grimace. Her entire being quivers, shaking in her skin, trembling as everything she is tries to rip her apart from the inside out. Cleo tightens her hold on the hilt of the blade resting in her hand as sobs tear through her vocal chords, ripping apart her throat as she pours every ounce of her being into the only words she can summon, the only words that feel at all close to enough: “Forgive me.”

The bright, glowing blade buries itself in Nia’s sternum, her features contorting as shadow and light battle within her, as her eyes and skin and veins and _everything_ burn with the force of the Light as it attempts to vanquish the darkness within her. And all Cleo can do is watch, can let the lump in her throat sit and grow as a body collapses before her, limp and empty and lifeless, all because of her, because she has to be here, she just has to.

She has to be the one, she has to do this. She has to be, she has to, she always, always has to, to be the one. She has to, to see her fall, has to, to see the pain, has to, to hold her, has to, to lose herself, has to, has to, has to. She has to suffer for letting her go, has to face her broken promise, has to accept her failures, has to, _has_ to, _has to, has to, has to._

Cleo bolts upright, her chest heaving as sweat drenches her clothes, hair sticking to her damp brow. Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark, to the familiar bedroom surrounding her, to the moonlight glinting through the open window, to the presence beside her.

Her knees press to her chest as her shoulders tremble, hands slipping into her hair to grip dreads tight in an attempt to steady herself. She squeezes her eyes shut, blocking out the moonlight in favour of the pulsing flashes of darkness and shadow as she counts each breath, weighing each inhale and exhale carefully, methodically.

Her pulse gradually slows from the thundering beat it once was, now a dull throb in the back of her skull, a thrum in her veins, an ache in her chest. The echo of her terror is gone, but likely not for long - it always finds its way back, snakes its way inside of her heart and eats away at her, devouring her with her own guilt until she’s bursting at the seams. It may have been years ago, but the memories of that day, of that scene, of that overwhelming, all-consuming loss that had gripped her feel far too real in the dead of night.

Cleo slowly unfurls from her hunched position, stretching back out with a steadying exhale, the tension previously held within her muscles disappearing as she stares at the ceiling, at the shadows and figures formed by stray moonlight. The branches of the fruit trees outside shift in the gentle breeze and along the ceiling, that same breeze billowing the curtains and sending a constant, calming scent of sweet fruit floating through the air.

The body next to Cleo stirs ever-so-slightly, heat slipping closer to her and soaking through her skin, settling within her bones in a manner more comforting than any campfire, than any hot meal, than any blanket imaginable. Cleo rolls onto her side, carefully slinging an arm over the rise and fall of ribs, fingers tangling in the very tips of long, soft hair and playing with them, relishing the well-known sensation on her fingertips.

Her forehead presses against the one before her, soft exhales slowed by sleep ghosting along her lips as eyes flutter beneath closed lids, the gentlest of movements. Stray strands of red tickle high cheekbones, inhales raise exposed chests, dim light plays off sharp contours and soft curves.

“Hey, Nia?” Quiet permeates the room, settles along the furniture like a layer of dust, reaches the farthest corners like a familiar companion. A companion that’s become far more common in the time since that awful day, a day followed by ones with less and less nightmares, less and less haunting memories, less and less sleepless nights.

She sinks further into the sheets, relishing the softness of the fabric and the warmth of the body beside her, her senses drinking in all of Nia. From shadowed features to delicate breaths to floral scents emanating from messy red curls, it’s all so perfect, all so carefully crafted as moonlight dances along her skin, “Thank you.”


End file.
